


to lead a better life

by armillarysphere



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2385626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armillarysphere/pseuds/armillarysphere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taylor gives Biz a business card before he goes to get in the cab waiting outside, his face heating up as he watches Biz read it and then raise his head to smirk at Taylor.</p>
<p>“Is this so I can booty call you when I’m in New York?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	to lead a better life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [camshaft22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/camshaft22/gifts).



> For camshaft22, who wanted Taylor/Biz, long-distance. I hope you like it!
> 
> Huge, huge thanks to L and E for the help and encouragement!! <3 <3 <3
> 
>  
> 
> _...to lead a better life, I need my love to be here..._ \-- Here, There, and Everywhere, The Beatles

Just when Taylor thought this shitshow of a day couldn't get any worse, it's the icing on the cake when the guy goofing off with his friends next to him at the bar spills his drink all over Taylor’s pants and shoes.

“Oh, shit, sorry man!” he exclaims, but Taylor’s already sighing and waving him off. There’s not much a handful of bar napkins can do but he makes a valiant attempt at mopping the sticky liquor up. “My bad. Really.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Taylor murmurs, leaning forward to try and flag down the bartender. He needs something stronger than the beer he’s been nursing for an hour. He’d told himself only one, because the meeting tomorrow is going to be bad enough that he doesn’t need a hangover to go with it, but after this, he needs shots. A lot of shots. “It happens.”

“No, but you’re in a suit and everything,” the guy says, giving Taylor a very unsubtle once over. “A really nice suit. You’re... definitely not from around here.”

Taylor shakes his head, rocking back onto his heels as he gives up on getting anyone’s attention behind the bar. “New York,” he says, although the guy gives him a raised eyebrow at that. He clearly doesn’t sound like it.

“You’re a long way from home, then,” the guy says. He’s completely turned away from his friends now, leaning his side against the bar and focusing on Taylor. He’s a couple of inches shorter than Taylor, but then again, so are most guys. He’s solidly built, though, Taylor thinks, idly. Wide shoulders and muscles well defined under his tight shirt, tapering down to a narrow waist and, oh. Taylor fights the urge to lick his lips as his gaze reaches the guy’s ass. “I’m Paul, by the way. Everyone calls me Biz, though.” He sounds amused, and he’s smiling when Taylor snaps his eyes up again guiltily.

“I’m Taylor,” Taylor says, then clears his throat. His hand twitches to reach out to offer a handshake, so deeply ingrained from all the countless business meetings he’s been to over the years. “Think I’ll ever get served again?” he asks, turning his attention back to the bar staff. It’s getting busier, louder; people crowding up to queue for more drinks around them. 

“Hmm, debatable at this point,” Paul - Biz - says, just as someone knocks into him and forces him a step closer to Taylor, bumping into his side. Something stirs in Taylor’s belly, a kind of longing that he hasn’t felt in a while. He turns his head to look at Biz, watches his eyes blink slowly once before he grins, a wide smile that splits his face in two. . “We could always get out of here, if you want.”

Taylor blinks. It’s been a while since someone has come onto him so obviously. Fuck it. Why the hell shouldn’t he? “Okay,” he says, then knocks back the dregs of his now-warm beer. “Let’s go.”

Biz’s smile gets impossibly wider and he nods, hand hot through Taylor’s shirt as he guides him through the crowd and out.

*

Taylor stretches when he wakes up, the alarm on his phone beeping away from somewhere on the floor. He rubs his eye with one hand and looks up at a strange ceiling, confused for a moment. The bed dips as the person next to him snuffles and rolls over, dropping a heavy arm across Taylor’s waist.

“S’early,” a voice grumbles, morning breath hitting the side of Taylor’s face. “Don’t get up.”

Taylor turns his head and meets Biz’s dark eyes, hooded with sleep. He looks handsome despite the bed-head and stubble. “I have a meeting,” Taylor says quietly, his throat scratchy, the feeling of Biz’s cock stretching his mouth wide echoing through his thoughts. “I need to get back to my hotel and change.”

Biz hums, eyes closing again. He moves closer, rubbing his nose against Taylor’s cheek. “Shame,” he says, lips brushing Taylor’s skin, catching on his jaw, bristles scraping. Taylor needs a shave as well. “I wanted another go around before you left.”

Taylor’s stomach flops over on itself while Biz’s hand slinks under the covers and traces fingers down to Taylor’s dick, wrapping around his morning wood and stroking slowly a few times. Taylor’s eyes fall shut, his mouth opening as he sighs and sinks into the feeling. “Okay...” he breathes, tipping his face up to find Biz’s mouth for a kiss. “Just one...”

*

Taylor gives Biz a business card before he goes to get in the cab waiting outside, his face heating up as he watches Biz read it and then raise his head to smirk at Taylor.

“Is this so I can booty call you when I’m in New York?” Biz asks, flipping it between his fingers a few times. He steps into Taylor’s space, leaning up to close the gap between their mouths. Taylor kisses him back, curving a hand around the back of his skull, wishing he could blow off his meeting and go back to bed. 

“You don’t have to wait until then,” Taylor says when they separate, dragging his thumb over Biz’s bottom lip as he talks. “I’m not flying back until the morning.”

“What time are you finished working?” Biz asks, hands on Taylor’s hips, pushing him back towards the door. The condo is only half finished now that Taylor actually pays attention, the kitchen is a construction site and there’s only some crates in the living room.

“Six,” Taylor says, although he really hopes it’ll be before then. “Call me?”

“Okay,” Biz says. The cab driver is leaning on the horn outside. “Don’t work too hard.”

*

Taylor’s phone buzzes on and off throughout the day but he doesn’t check it until he’s finished his presentation and then spent another hour answering questions on the benefits of three-fold pamphlets versus one-sheet flyers, and the relative merits of branded mouse mats. When he finally takes his phone out of his pocket and looks at it, the lock screen is full with text notifications from an unsaved number.

**[hey sexy]**

**[this is paul btw]**

**[bored.]**

**[but you’re working]**

**[wondering what it is you do]**

**[something that requires a suit and a scowl]**

**[hockey coach? jk]**

**[spy?]**

**[journalist? nah, you’re too nice ;)]**

**[model?]**

**[jeez, you’re still going eh?]**

**[no wonder you needed a drink last night]**

Taylor’s smiling at his phone by the time he gets to the end. They hadn’t really talked much last night after they left the bar, but Taylor’s seen and heard enough to know that Paul is a funny guy, and there’s a warmth settling in Taylor’s stomach when he thinks about seeing him again. 

**_[lol, did u work it out? it’s not v interesting i promise]_ **

**[you’re alive! no, i didn’t, but don’t tell me, let me guess over dinner]**

**_[dinner?]_ **

The phone rings then and Taylor swipes it open while he packs up his computer and samples into his bag. “Hey.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not hungry after all that,” Paul - Biz - Taylor’s having trouble keeping track of what he should be calling him - says. “I’ve been waiting hours.”

Taylor’s stomach growls, right on cue. “Okay, yeah, I’m a little hungry,” he says, pausing to rub one hand over it. “Gonna take me somewhere nice?”

“Sure,” Paul says, “you’ve only got suits with you anyway, right? That’d probably stick out at a Quizno’s.”

Taylor laughs, feeling something free itself up inside him. He’s fighting his way out of the boardroom he’s been in all day and over to the elevators when he says, “so, um, you’ll come pick me up from the hotel? I’m at the Marriott.”

“Okay,” Paul says, sounding happy with that. “You there now?”

“No, I’m just heading back though,” Taylor says, waving goodbye to the receptionist as the elevator doors close, sealing him off, letting him raise his voice a little. “Meet me in an hour?”

“It’s a date.”

*

“You’re not allergic to seafood, are you?” Paul asks when they get to the restaurant. 

Taylor smiles. “I’ve been here before,” he says, letting Paul open the door for him. “I lived in Vancouver for a while. Years ago now.”

“Ah, fuck,” Paul says, snapping his fingers. “There goes my chance to wow you with local highlights.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Taylor says, laughing as the hostess guides them to a table. “It’s been a long time though. I’m sure lots has changed.”

“Probably,” Paul says, moving to pull Taylor’s chair out for him. Taylor nudges him out of the way with a gentle roll of his eyes. Paul grins at him. “You live here then?”

“Only in the summers.” Taylor watches him take a seat and open the menu, leaving Taylor to look at the wine list. “I play hockey in Arizona.”

“Professionally?” 

Paul laughs, as though he’s really pleased at the question. “Yeah, professionally. I play for the Coyotes.”

“Oh,” Taylor says, “that’s pretty awesome. Hockey was always my little brother’s thing.”

“Yeah? What’s yours then?” Paul asks, definitely flirting, but he looks so interested in Taylor’s answer it makes him want to squirm. “What was it you work in?”

“Marketing. I sell promotional materials,” Taylor says, rubbing the side of his nose under Paul’s earnest scrutiny “It’s so boring.”

“What kind of promotional materials? Like, posters and advertising and stuff?” Paul closes the menu, apparently done choosing, and passes it across the table.

“No, like, the freebie stuff companies give away,” Taylor says, looking down again to skim the wine list another time. “Hey, did you want wine, or beer?”

“Whatever,” Paul says, grinning. “You choose. You get to keep any of it? The freebies.”

Taylor nods and groans. “My garage is full of mouse pads and prototypes of various new products, assorted shit like that. Coffee cups with misspelt logos, bobble heads that don’t bobble…” He counts them off on his fingers as he goes, making Paul laugh. He decides he likes that sound. “I get to travel a lot though, which is cool, most of the time.” Taylor pauses. “I guess you know what living out of a suitcase is like, eh?”

Paul makes a noise of agreement, the tiny motions of his fingertips moving gently up and down the stem of his glass distracting Taylor from choosing something to eat. “You get used to it,” he says, shrugging, then: “so… oysters?”, with a wink and a leer.

Taylor barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “No way, those things are gross,” he says, making a face. Paul’s grinning again when he looks over. “You get them if you want, but, yuck.”

“I’m just messing with ya,” he says. Taylor watches him lean back in his seat, looking around to catch the eye of the waiter to take their order. “Just make sure you save room for dessert.”

Taylor can’t argue with that.

*

“When are you leaving?” Paul asks, after they’ve finished eating and Taylor’s just pushing the last of his pasta around his plate, too full to manage any more. 

“Tomorrow,” Taylor says. He’d been trying not to think about it for the last hour or so. 

“Early?”

“Not too early, no.” 

“Good.”

*

The stiff hotel sheets rustle around his ears as he turns over and finds that Paul’s awake before him this time when Taylor opens his eyes to the morning. Awake and watching Taylor blink and yawn. “Watcha lookin’ at?” Taylor mumbles, curling his arm under his head to look back at Paul properly.

“You,” Paul says, raising his hand to push through the mess that must be Taylor’s hair. “Wanted to see those big blue eyes of yours again before I go.”

Taylor groans, pushing Paul’s hand away and moving to bury his head under the sheets again. “Oh, my God, that’s so bad.”

“Hey, I’m paying you a compliment here,” Paul says, following Taylor back under the covers. The sunlight is coming through the cotton so it’s not dark, but it does smell of sex and Taylor’s morning wood is rapidly demanding more attention. He lets Paul climb on top of him, enjoying the feel of warm skin sliding against his own, until he says, “I gotta go. I’m meeting some guys for breakfast. You can come if you want, but - ”

“I have a flight to catch,” Taylor finishes for him. He runs his fingers over the tattoo on Paul’s side, tracing the outline. “Well. You’ve got my number. Next time you’re in New York…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Call me.”

*

**_[so am i ever gonna see u play a game?]_** Taylor sends when he reads yet another article online about the NHL lockout continuing. He gets a string of sad faces back which, yeah, he doesn’t blame Paul for - it’s been a month since the season was due to start.

**[u need an intern? im serious. u dont have to pay me]**

**[not with money anyway]**

**[ ;) ]**

**_[good to see u havent lost ur sense of humor thru all this]_ **

Taylor smiles down at his phone, and then laughs when Paul sends him another message, this time with a link to HockeyFights.com and **[u can always check out my greatest hits]**.

“You’re such an ass,” he says out loud, making the woman across from him on the subway look up. He gives her an apologetic look and then hunches down into his scarf, hiding his grin as he sends the same back to Paul.

*

**[boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooored]**

**[did u kno that the largest snowflake ever recorded was 15 inches across]**

**[the longest time between two twins being born is 87 days]**

**[most muppets are left handed]**

**[female kangaroos have 3 vaginas]**

**_[wtf]_ **

**[i know right! 3 seems like a lot.]**

**_[i don’t even want to know what you googled to find that out]_ **

**[kangaroo porn obviously]**

**_[silly me. of course]_ **

*

Taylor’s on a trip to D.C. when Paul calls him while he’s getting breakfast, hastily swallowing his mouthful of home fries as he swipes to answer the call. “Hey, what’s up? It’s early for you.”

“I got some news, wanted to share it,” Paul says, voice sounding even deeper with the early hour.

“Oh, yeah? Good news?” Taylor asks, settling back into his armchair with his coffee. “Lockout over?”

“No, not that good, but I am going to play some hockey again soon.” He sounds happy, and Taylor likes that a lot. “Over in Europe.”

“Oh, wow, Europe?” Taylor’s chest tightens a little, because this long distance whatever it is they have going on is one thing when he thinks of it as Paul being just a few states away, but Europe is a whole other kettle of fish. “Like, Russia?”

“No, not the KHL, I’m not good enough for that,” Paul says with a rumbling chuckle. “The team is in Cardiff, Wales, but I guess I’ll be playing all over the UK.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Taylor says, eyes on the sculpture outside. He clears his throat after they both fall quiet for a moment. “So, when do you leave?”

“Uh, I got a flight in a couple days,” Paul says. Taylor can hear him scratch his beard. “I’m coming through New York, though, so maybe we could-”

“Yeah,” Taylor says, cutting him off and then making a face at how eager he sounds. “I mean, yes, please, I’d like that. Are you - is it just a layover?”

“I could get a flight to NYC tonight, if you want.”

Taylor laughs, feeling relieved that he’s not the only one. “No, don’t do that. I’m in D.C. right now.”

“Aw, dude,” Paul groans. “Seriously?”

“Sorry,” Taylor says as he leans forward to get a forkful of eggs. “I’m back the day after tomorrow.”

“Sweet.” Paul coughs, then adds, “so do I need to book a room somewhere or..?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Taylor murmurs, wanting the next couple of days to go past so quickly now. 

“Okay,” Paul says, then, “good”, then, “miss you”.

Taylor’s hand holding his fork trembles once before he puts it down. “Yeah,” he says, “I, uh, me too.”

*

Taylor generally doesn’t mind winter, he’s from Canada after all, and he generally doesn’t mind winter in New York, apart from right now, when he’s trying to get Paul out from under a thousand layers of coats and hats and scarves and mittens and sweaters and “Jesus, I know you live in the desert, but come on”.

Paul laughs, kicking his boots off toward the front door then shrugging out of his coat. Taylor lets it fall to the floor, too busy kissing him to care where it ends up. They can clear up later. Or never.

“Bedroom’s this way?” Paul makes a gesture over Taylor’s head that he doesn’t really pay attention to but nods anyway, grabbing him by the shirt front and tugging. “Cool.”

Taylor huffs a laugh into his mouth and keeps going, spinning around to make sure they don’t hit any doorways but keeping a hold of Paul’s shirt, dragging him through the apartment. He’s glad he left the lights on because he’s not sure he can remember where his own switch is once he’s got Paul in there. 

He kisses Paul, and kisses him, and kisses him, while their hands fumble the last of their clothes off, littering Taylor’s room until they’re naked at last. Taylor falls back onto the bed when Paul nudges him, opening his arms for Paul to follow, spreading his legs for him to fit between. There’s new ink on Paul’s arm that Taylor wants to taste, as well as the rest of him, but Paul’s the one kissing his way down Taylor’s body right now.

Taylor rubs the palm of his hand over Paul’s short hair, his skin buzzing, as Paul gets to his dick. He looks down just as Paul’s tongue snakes out to lick at the head, eyes up to meet Taylor’s gaze, and Taylor’s stomach clenches hard at the sight. “Fuck,” he breathes, his free hand gripping the sheets while he watches his dick disappear into Paul’s mouth. “Oh, God, that feels good.”

Paul hums, like he’s happy to hear it, and swirls his tongue around Taylor’s dick before pulling off, letting cool air hit him, making Taylor shiver. Paul goes back in quickly though, enveloping Taylor’s cock once more, then does it all over again, making Taylor bite back a moan. He can’t stop his hips from twitching up, chasing the warmth of Paul’s mouth, the tight, wet suction, and it’s a relief when Paul slides his hands underneath to grab his ass and pull him close, taking him deep enough that Taylor can see his eyes shining.

Taylor groans loudly, neck arching back, the hand on the back of Paul’s head sliding down to grip onto his shoulder. He thrusts his hips up, fucking Paul’s mouth, his bed rocking and mattress springs creaking with it. Paul’s making greedy little noises around his dick, drooling over his fingers when he wraps his hand around what doesn’t fit in his mouth, jerking Taylor off like that. It’s so filthy and wet, Taylor isn’t going to last long at all.

“Oh, fuck, Paul,” Taylor says through a moan, his toes beginning to curl. He looks back down at Paul, groaning again when he sees him shifting, looking restless, grinding his hips down into the bed. “ _Fuck_.”

Paul pulls off with a wet sound, running his tongue over his swollen lips, breathing hard. “You wanna come in my mouth or on my face?” he asks, apparently guileless, but Taylor thinks it’s dirty pool.

“Jesus,” Taylor says, dropping his head back onto the pillows and waving a hand around. “You can’t just… Fuck, okay, your mouth. In your mouth.”

“Good.” Paul sucks him back in deep, moving his head faster now, getting sloppy and a little bit frantic as he tries to get Taylor to come. It’s really not going to take much, it’s been too long without anyone but his hand and Paul’s voice in his ear, telling him how he’s going to do exactly what he’s doing right now.

Taylor makes an embarrassing noise and comes almost right away when Paul hums and swallows around him, going all the way down so his nose is buried in Taylor’s hair. He keeps up the moves of his hand on Taylor’s dick, slick with come and spit, holding his mouth open now for Taylor to come onto his tongue. Taylor can see his other arm moving underneath him, jerking off, still grinding into the mattress.

“Come here,” he urges, pulling weakly on Paul’s shoulder until he starts moving, crawling up over Taylor’s body again. Paul settles on his knees, legs spread wide over Taylor’s hips, and wraps his messy fist around his dick. One, two, three strokes and he’s coming over Taylor’s stomach, both of them watching it stripe Taylor’s skin. Taylor sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, soothing the sting where he’s been biting down on it and Paul’s beard has rubbed against it, then leans up to kiss Paul again, moaning softly at the taste of himself in Paul’s mouth.

Paul collapses next to him when they break apart, tucking himself into Taylor’s side and dragging two fingers through the mess on Taylor’s front. It’s already drying and tacky, catching in the trail of hair leading down from his belly button; they really should shower. Taylor doesn’t want to move though. From the way Paul is already breathing slower, like he’s falling asleep, Taylor doesn’t think he wants to either.

“Paul,” he says after a while, when he thinks he can find his voice again. It comes out a little huskier than he expected. Maybe he was louder than he realised, earlier on.

“Mmm?”

“‘M glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

*

 

*

 

*

“Heeeeey!” Taylor says brightly when he answers the phone, Paul’s face lighting up his screen. He jogs up the stairs to his room, away from the rest of his family. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Taylor,” Paul says, laughing. “You sound happy.”

“I’m a tiny tiny bit drunk,” Taylor says, flopping onto his bed after he’s shut the bedroom door, blocking out the sound of his brothers and his parents downstairs. He giggles at the fact that he’s hiding in his room like a teenager.

Paul laughs some more, and it sounds like there’s a party going on behind him as well. “Where are you?”

“At my mom and dad’s,” Taylor says, wriggling to get comfy on the bed. “Having flashbacks. Hiding in my room, talking to cute boys on the phone.”

“You got more than one cute boy you talk to on the phone?” Paul asks, still sounding amused, but Taylor’s stomach flips anyway - not just from the booze. “I’m hurt.”

“No, no,” Taylor says, putting one hand on his cheek as he flushes warm. “Just you. And you’re not _that_ cute…” He giggles again, then slaps himself.

Paul laughs even harder. “You’re funny when you’re drunk.”

Taylor grins, then when he remembers that Paul can’t see him he just sighs. “So, where are you? What time is it?”

“Early. Or late. Depends how you look at it,” Paul says. The noise behind him disappears, and Taylor can hear Paul breathing now instead. “I’m at one of the guys’ houses. I had my first Welsh Christmas. British people eat turkey on Christmas, which is all kinds of wrong.”

Taylor shrugs. “The world would be boring if we were all the same.”

“True enough, I suppose,” Paul says. “So…. what are you wearing?”

“I’m at my mom’s!” Taylor laughs, but the way Paul dropped his voice to say it has his dick interested in proceedings regardless. “And you’re at someone’s house.”

“I’m in the bathroom, there’s a lock on the door,” Paul says, and now that Taylor listens closely, he can hear the echo over the phone line. “And it’s, like, four in the morning. No one cares. Besides, I’ve seen some kinky shit over here. People having sex in the doorways of stores while they wait for a bus home. They’re not gonna care if they walk in on me rubbing one out while I talk to my boyfriend on the phone.”

Taylor’s breath catches in his throat. “Paul...”

“Well, that’s what you are, right?” Paul asks, although it sounds more like a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” Taylor says, “yeah, I am.”

“Good. Now tell me what you’re wearing.”

*

Taylor stares up at the ceiling in a daze for a while after they hang up, only coming to his senses when his phone buzzes again on the bed next to his hip where he let it fall. It’s a picture message: Paul’s dick in his hand, covered in jizz. Another comes through straight after: Paul sucking on two of his fingers, staring right into the camera.

Taylor groans, his dick twitching weakly. **_[fuck off]_** , he sends back, mostly because he can’t get it up again right now.

**[ :D ]**

**[i hope u got evrythng u wanted for christmas]**

**_[yeah :) i did]_ **

*

“I can’t believe I ever complained about living in the desert,” Paul says instead of hello when Taylor calls to see how he’s settling back in. “It’s January, and I’m not wearing pants.”

Taylor chuckles, flipping through a stack of samples on his desk. “I’m at work, I wasn’t planning on this being one of those kinds of conversations,” he says, then grabs a pen to circle the colour he wants for each of them. 

“I don’t automatically think of sex when you call, you know,” Paul replies. Taylor lets his silence speak for itself. “Okay, maybe I do, but not this time.”

Taylor laughs properly now, and spins around in his chair to get out and walk over to the window of his office, looking out onto the street below. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

“I’m only a thirty-seven hour drive away from you now,” Paul says, sounding really pleased with himself for knowing how to use Google maps.

“Thirty-seven? Oh, well, then I’ll be seeing you all the time,” Taylor replies, turning and leaning against the window, crossing his legs at the ankle. “I’ll just head over after work; be there no time.”

“Yeah, right? That’s nothing.” Taylor can hear the smile in his voice. “Seriously, though, it’s good to be back on this side of the ocean.”

“How’s your place?”

“Come and see for yourself.”

Taylor wants nothing more. “I’ll try and get some time off,” he says, then adds: “I checked your schedule; you’re not coming to New York.”

Paul sighs. “No, ‘cause of the lockout. It’s a shortened season so it’s West against West, East against East.”

“Well, I’ll just have to hope you get into the Finals, then.” There’s a snort, and Taylor grins. “Or I’ll pick a city and turn up at your hotel.”

“Oh, yeah? I thought you said this wasn’t going to be one of those conversations, because you’re getting me all worked up here, baby.”

“Sorry.” Taylor laughs and checks his watch. “I have to get back to work, but you keep thinking about that, and I’ll call you when I get home.”

*

Taylor figures he’s better off just coming out with it, no preamble, no sugar coating. Just, plain facts. The words stick in his throat though, and why he thought this would be better in person is beyond him, because he’s got Paul sitting across from him at dinner on their sort-of-but-not-really-because-neither-of-them-can-remember-the-exact-date-they-just-know-it-it-was-August anniversary, and now Taylor has to tell him:

“I’m - I’m moving. To Switzerland.”

Taylor takes a big gulp of his wine while he watches Paul blink and take it in, brow furrowing into a frown.

“Switzerland? How come?”

“My brother, he’s moving his company out there and he needs a marketing guy, and I speak French… It’s not going to be forever, but it might be for the foreseeable future,” Taylor says, and it kind of feels like he’s driving a knife into his own heart. “You said your contract was up, and I didn’t know if - I just wanted to tell you. If you were making plans.”

Paul’s quiet for a while. Taylor drinks more wine. Their dinners are going cold in front of them.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner,” Taylor whispers, looking down at his hands shredding the paper doily from under his water glass. “I needed to wait until the visas had been sorted and it was definitely happening before I said anything, in case it fell through.”

“It’s all right,” Paul says eventually, nudging Taylor’s knee with his own under the table. “I’ve got some try-outs with some teams, my agent’s working on some stuff. We’ll just have to see what happens.”

Taylor nudges back, giving him a sad smile. “Okay.”

*  


*

Taylor blinks when he opens the door, finding Paul on his doorstep, two suitcases and a hockey bag on the path behind him, snow falling everywhere, soft and steady. Taylor feels like he’s in a movie. “This is a surprise.”

“Good,” Paul says, clapping his gloved hands together and jumping on the spot a little. “That was the plan.”

“You’re - you’re here? For good?”

“Uh huh. The Swiss league is pretty good, it turns out. It’s not the NHL, but...” Paul says, shrugging, his breath puffing out in clouds. “I’ve been practicing my French.”

Taylor smiles, something settling in his chest, something he’s been afraid to acknowledge was missing. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Paul takes a step closer, coming up to Taylor’s height. He waggles his eyebrows as he pulls off his gloves, then reaches out to slide his fingers between Taylor’s, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?”

“Figures that’d be the first thing you’d learn,” Taylor says, trying really hard not to laugh. “Come inside and I’ll tell you.” He gets his socks wet stepping out into the snow to drag Paul’s bags into the house, but he doesn’t care.

“Oh, there was something else,” Paul says once everything is inside and Taylor is divesting him of his coat and hat. He pauses, hands on Paul’s scarf, looking into wide, dark eyes. He nods for Paul to continue. “Je t’aime.”

Taylor kisses him, finally, and whispers back, “Oui. Je t’aime.”

 

_end_

**Author's Note:**

> The images for the post cards were found on Google image search and I make no claim to them. Taylor's snapchats from Switzerland are both pictures I have taken on my own trips to Geneva. :)


End file.
